One In A Million
by thirteenth17
Summary: Millions of girls will enter The Selection, 35 will make it, 1 will win the Prince's heart. Nobody though they would be chosen to enter, let alone be able to win. SYOC CLOSED!
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys! Please submit your application in regards to the guidelines below! I accept both reviews and PMs. Please read the rules on my profile and chose a province from the list!

Name:

Nickname?:

Age:

Caste:

Job:

School attended?:

Height:

Weight:

Build:

Eye color:

hair color:

hair length:

hair type (curly, wavy, bushy, etc):

OPTIONAL celebrity look alike:

Personality traits (list at least 10, positive or negative):

Likes:

Dislikes:

Passions or quirks:

Family:

Friends or any best friends:

History:

What they would wear during the selection:

Briefly describe their maids:

Lastly, write a short paragraph on their reaction to being Selected in your characters POV just so I can get the idea of what they sound like:

Anything else?:

Thanks guys!


	2. Chapter 2

I'm really going to work on this Selection thing yay!

Here is an updated submission form:

**_24/35_**

**Name:  
Nickname?:  
Age:  
Province:  
Caste:  
Job:  
School attended?:  
Height:  
Weight:  
Build:  
Eye color:  
hair color:  
hair length:  
hair type (curly, wavy, bushy, etc):**

**Overall appearance:**

**OPTIONAL celebrity look alike:  
Personality (don't just list traits PLEASE):  
Likes:  
Dislikes:  
Passions or quirks:  
Family:  
Friends or any best friends:  
History:  
What they would wear during the selection:**

**Reason for entering:**

**How would they treat the Prince?**

**How would they treat other Selected?**

**Briefly describe their maids:  
Lastly, write a short paragraph on your reaction to being Selected in your characters POV just so I can get the idea of what they sound like:  
Anything else:**

I have been getting a lot of submissions but I feel as if many of the girls are too similar, for this reason I will no longer accept your character if...

They have green eyes (just make it blue or preferably brown)

Auburn hair (haven't received very many blonds or brunettes so the choice is yours)

A skinny build, look around, does every person in your high school have a skinny build? The answer is no. These girls are real people to, so please don't make them a mini Barbie

The base character traits of "she is nice and sweet and funny and smart" I actually have a good handful of characters just like that. I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad but I already have enough girls playing the role of "the good girl" **The goal is not to make a future sure to win princess, it is to make a real girl with real flaws.**

**My story will continue as soon as I have all 35 girls.**

**It will be divided into 10 main, 13 supporting, and 12 background characters.**

**Mostly the POV will be from a main or a supporting character.**

**What's the best way to become a main? Think outside of the box. Does she have 2 different colored eyes? Has she been in the hospital before? Is she in the military? A YouTube star? In addition to this, make SURE that you give plenty of detail. Characters lacking in detail will be background because they will just be too hard to write. Check out the AMAZING job PowerPoint on 4Love 4Love4 profile if you are stuck on needing a creative job!**

**If you have already sent me a character just shoot be a PM telling me why she entered, because I noticed that was missing in the original form.**

**Thanks so much! Can't wait to see what you guys come up with!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter One

**The Prince**

"You excited Wills?" Arden teases and I just have to roll my eyes.

"Ecstatic," I lamely reply to my twin sister. If she had been born first she would've inherited and have to have a Selection. But no. I was born 3 minutes before by sister and right about now she couldn't be happier.

"You have to make the announcement tonight you know. Right?" She presses further, flipping a strand of lose blond hair into her bun.

"Yep." I move around my pancakes, which look slightly unappetizing about now.

It was just me and Arden in the regular kitchen eating chocolate chip pancakes alone because we got up later then everyone else. Usually I love my sister but now she is being a total pain. Thanks Ard for all the help.

"You nervous?"

"Arden, shut it. Not helping."

"Okay okay."

**Ashlyn Benthos**

"You heard about the Selection right Ash?" My best friend Gabrielle questions.

"Well duh! Who wasn't watching the Report last night?" I say exasperated. The uber cute Prince Will was having his Selection, of course everyone knew already. And of course I was going to enter. "Which headshot looks better?" I add, derailing us from the convo. I hold up 2 that I just got in the mail today. Honestly, I looked really attractive in both but Gabrielle had an eye for detail.

"Your eyes look greener in this one." Gabrielle says after a pause and taps the one in my left hand, "And your hair looks shinier."

I lay them both on my duvet in front of me, not sure which I like better. I should just send in both. With my naturally tiny figure and my sparkling hazel eyes, I was a for sure model from the age of 7 when i was sitting watching my mom during a photo shoot and was spotted by the photographer.

"Why do you need ANOTHER modeling gig anyways?" Gabbi asks as she picks up a full portrait of me and holds it at an arms length away, "Leave some for the rest of us will ya?" Gabrielle Avon is a fellow model from a photo shoot a while back. With her thick blond hair and captivating blue eyes, I am shocked she doesn't have more gigs.

I sigh as I hear some faint yelling from downstairs. Probably my mom. "Something to do."

"Are you kidding me?"

I hear a loud crash downstairs that Gabbi doesn't seem to notice and I cringe. "I just need to get out of the house more."

She looks at me confused, "But your practically never home anyways. You're either doing a photo shoot for that bikini place or filming an episode for one thing or another."

"Exactly, I plan to never be home."

We both sit there in silence for a moment, looking at the headshots of me looking fabulous. Not to be conceited, but I happen to be very good looking. This isn't a shallow opinion, no no. This is a fact. I am signed with some of the biggest names in fashion and I'm trying to break into acting a little more and be a little more well rounded.

"So you gonna enter?" Gabrielle asks, breaking into a grin.

I pretend to think a moment, "Well duh! How bout you?" I already knew the answer to that, of course Gabbi was entering.

"What do you think Ash?" She says casting me a sideways glance, "And I think you should use this one still." Gabs hands me the original one she liked and I agree on it. My eyes do look greener anyways.

**Annalise Graywell**

"Guess what I just did?" Emma squeals as she throws open the door to my father's theater.

I shut my book and look through the empty auditorium as i see her bounding down the aisle to my seat in the front row. Currently I was sitting through my father's play practice and reading a book on the history of ballet. I'd already seen this scene done too many times, so my attention was one my book. Not a terribly thrilling book, but being a ballerina I sort of had to know a little bit of the history. The actors in my father's play stopped the scene and all yelled a "hello" at Emma as she slides into a velvet cushion folding chair to my left.

Emma Gilman had already been in many plays at my father's theater even though she is 17, the same age as me. Most of the actors on stage had worked with her before. I tried to break into acting, I swear I tried. But it wasn't for me, I wasn't dreadful at it though. But the dancing portion always was when I shined brighter then anyone else, even Emma. Acting wasn't as natural as dancing, I could never immerse myself into another world, a new person quite like Emma could.

"So you know about the Selection right?" She begins, taking a strand of light colored hair and twirling it in between her long fingers.

"I heard about it. They announced it last night, correct?" I say flatly, not really caring. I've seen Prince William on the Report, there is no denying he is handsome. But I don't know if this princess business is for me. Currently I'm on my way to becoming a future prima ballerina and already I am one of the best in Bonita. Would I be willing to sacrifice that all for a boy I don't know? It's pointless anyway entering, it could never be me.

"You didn't watch the Report?" Emma asks dumbly.

"I was at dance."

"Your always at dance," she groans, sliding down in her seat.

"Practice make perfect," I laugh, it's true though, I am always at dance.

"Yeah yeah," Emma waves my comment away and continues in a quieter voice since my dad is running the scene again, "You gonna enter?"

I pause a moment, "Not sure."

Emma lets her smile fall, "Why?!"

I close my ballet book and begin tracing the lettering on the front. "Hes cute and all, but what are the chances of even being picked? It's like 1 in 100million! I might as well not enter at all."

"So then if the odds are so so small there's no harm done right?" Emma smirks, knowing she has caught me in a corner.

I let out a huff and begin to absent mindedly braid my thick blond hair out of my face. My hair was a bland faded blond, the same as my father's. My eyes were a russet brown, which look strange against my light hair.

Emma was always dragging me into things. If I didn't have her I would probably stay at home and read all day or garden alone or just do ballet until I dropped dead. But Emma makes sure i get out and do one wild thing or too.

"I guess," I cave eventually, "Why not right?"

"That's the spirit! Let's go now!" Emma yips excitedly, already throwing my book into my dance bag.

"Wait now?"

"The sooner the better!" I almost cut her off but she then turns to the stage and says, "BYE MR GRAYWELL! ANNALISE AND I WILL BE BACK SOON!" Actually she didn't say it, she pretty much yelled it. The scene stops once more and this time my dad shoots her a glare, clearly displeased by her second interruption. Emma doesn't notice though, because she just grabs my ballet bag and begins to jog up the aisle towards the back entrance without my consent.

I don't argue, in 20 years at least I can tell my kids I entered among hundreds of thousands into Prince William's Selection.

I couldn't be chosen, there was no possible way. Right?

**Iona Pierre**

When most girls saw the Selection last night I'm pretty sure all they were thinking about was the Prince. His curly blond hair, his aquamarine eyes, how they could just see themselves as the future Mrs William Schreave. But not me.

"You gonna enter?" Trick Jameson, my best friend asks as he tosses me a sack of flour from the storehouse the next morning.

"Hell yes!" I reply enthusiastly. The sack of flour lands almost effortlessly in the back of my family's green pickup truck and I catch the next bag he tosses me from the doorway of the old barn.

"Hmm, I don't know Eye, you don't really strike me as a princess."

I let out a laugh. I, Iona Pierre, was most definitely not a princess in the making. At 6 feet tall and a little on the chubbier side, I can assure you I wasn't future princess material. It's not that I am a troll or look like I got hit by a bus, it's my over the top personality that would clash with the straight laced royalty.

"I'm not going to be a princess, stupid," and another 50 pound sack of flour lands in the pick up truck.

Trick looks confused and he sets down the next sack by the red barn doors to push his brown hair out of his cobalt eyes. Since i was old enough to work on my family's farm work has always started at 4:30. And since it was summer, even at 6:30 in the morning the humidity was killer.

Trick sinks to the ground and rocks back on his heels as he leans against the wall, "So then why bother entering?" Trick has been one of my best friends since he started working at Pierre Farm when he was 12 as our cattle boy. He is practically my brother, and I wouldn't hesitate to tell him about my plan.

Tired as well, and partially because I am lazy, I walk the few feet to be closer to him and sit down on the spare tire stack across from him on the dirt driveway and wipe the flour off of my hands and onto my overalls.

"For adventure." I reply with a smirk and a glint in my wide hazel eyes.

He raises and eyebrow at me. "How do you plan to find adventure in the Selection? It's just dresses and gossip. My mom told me about King Maxon's Selection and she said it was nothing but a distraction from the real issues Illea was facing."

Mrs Jameson has an opinion on everything and I roll my eyes. "Did yer mother invade your brain?"

"No, but she's right."

"Oh my god, yer mother has brainwashed ya!" I hoot and I carelessly throw a tuft of grass at him.

Trick doesn't respond but shoots me a frown as he stands up again and throws me a bag of wheat this time and I accept it with ease. Working on a farm has given the two of us the unnatural ability to throw around heaving objects as if it's a pillow.

"But why would you even enter? The whole thing is bull anyways. It's rigged, Eye." Typically Trick and I work together like two gears in a well oiled clock, but today he was slightly more argumentative then I had ever seen him.

"So what if it is rigged? At least I can say I had a shot," I fire back.

Under his breath I hear him mutter, "Yeah, a shot in the dark." I pretend not to hear it and i have to grit my teeth to urge down any comeback I might've had.

After the next wheat sack I pause and turn back to him.

"Lemme ask ya something."

"Shoot away." He says it casually but he looks worried.

"If you had a way out o' this, wouldn't ya take it ?" I ask, gesturing around the whole huge Pierre Farm. Life is uneventful and I'm not sure if it's perfect or if I hate it. Nothing changes, ever. Nothing new or excited. Often I feel as if everyday is on repeat. Everything is the same, it's like living inside a time warp. I wonder if I would dispise a change here on out little farm. Nothing is ever a surprise, every day I'd planned out by the hour. Mostly because my mother has our household running like the military.

Trick opens his mouth but doesn't continue, so I ramble on.

"Well the Selection could be an adventure. Something new from what we've been doing for the PAST 5 YEARS! Since we were 12! Wouldn't ya take it? Just to see what maybe could happen? Trick, I've been doing the same thing every day around the clock and I'm so tired of it. I just want a change. Surely you can understand that?"

He doesn't look at me but I know he gets me. Of course he understands. How could he not? I probably won't be picked, but I can say I entered in at the chance. If I don't enter my name I just know I will die wanting to know what could've happened.

We finish loading the truck in silence, neither of us sure what to say. Typically I am a girl who is never at a loss for words, who almost always fills the silence. Yet here I was speechless. I had expected Trick to applaud my genius or something other then disagree.

You can't blame me for trying, even if it is hopeless. My mom doesn't understand how I feel, she refuses to even consider changing my future to something brighter then milking her prized cows every morning before dawn.

Is it a shot in the dark? Yeah it is. Is it worth it? Absolutely.

**First chapter! I don't think I expected an SYOC story to be this hard haha. I got so many wonderful characters that I can't wait to write for you all! I know it is hard to keep them all straight in your head since there are 35, but i will introduce them slowly. The best way to get you character a POV is to review review review! If you haven't already please make sure you let me know why they entered in the first place. I actually got MORE girls then I needed and I can't even tell you how happy that made me! **

**Next chapter will include a list of the Selected girls and I will try to give most of them a POV before dividing them into main, supporting, and extra. **

**You will hear more from the Prince I swear it! **

**Annalise Graywell and Ashlyn Benthos were both submitted by 4Love4Love4**

**And Iona Pierre was submitted by Thedafodilqueen**

**Xxoo**


	4. Chapter 2: Re uploaded

Hey! I had so many punctuation errors and typos that I had to re upload it so so sorry !

Chapter Two: Haven, Amaris, &amp; Callisa

**Haven Rivers**

I flip through an old textbook from the old country. I have only read it a million times and practically memorized everything. The way America was run, it's people, all of the wars, it was just so fascinating to me.

Absent mindedly I begin to trace one of the ugly scars along my collar bone as I read. But I don't just have scars on my collar bone, they're all over my chest and upper arms. Including one across my left cheek.

"Daddy? Daddy?" What has happened? Splintering glass. Tires screeching. A bloody windshield. Lifeless.

"Honey, Haven, just lie down. It will be okay." A nurse cooes over me.

"Where's daddy? Where's mommy?" I am shaking now in my hospital bed.

I try to get up but every nerve and fiber feels as if it was lit on fire.

"Where are my parents?"

"Shh, go back to sleep," the nurse says softly, brushing my honey brown hair off of my forehead.

"No! I wanna see my daddy!" The nurse doesn't reply, instead she injects something into my right arm and I fall back into blackness.

My breath hitches and I sit upright on my bed and pull off my headphones. No no, it's okay Haven, I have to tell myself. You aren't 10 and this isn't a hospital. Calm down. My breathing returns back to a steady pace and with shaking hands I continue reading "A History of the United States of America".

There is a knock on my bedroom door and the triple hard knock tells me it's Zia. "Come in!" I call across my room, my voice breaking slightly and she slips inside.

She has taken off her apron but is still wearing her black maids dress. Her caramel hair has fallen out of her bun and her darkly tanned skin is flushed.

"You okay?" Zia asks when she sees my expression, which probably looks like I just bit a lemon.

"Hm? Oh yeah I'm fine," I lie, managing a weak smile. Usually I don't get these flashbacks anymore, and this one hit me like a tidal wave.

Even though Zia Ramirez is one of the few maids for just my mother and I, she is my best friend and can see right through my lies.

She scoots onto the edge of my blue comforter and looks me in the eye.

"You need to talk about it?" After thinking a moment I decided not too. If I was going to get these for the rest of my life I might as well suck it up now.

"No, thanks for offering Zia. But I'm good." She nods and casts her glance to the array of books on my bed.

"How's college going?" She asks.

I groan and gesture at all of the textbooks piled high on my desk, "It's intense," I admit, "If I do well on my next test my professor says I'm practically already accepted to med school."

Zia's nut eyes widen and she lets out a squeal as she throws her tiny arms around me. "HAVEN! That's amazing!"

She never fails to put a smile on my face. I push my glasses up on my nose and she releases me. "Need help studying?" While I am naturally intelligent, studying is not my strong suit. My memory is practically photographic, so studying isn't really needed anyways. But I didn't want her to go yet.

"Yeah, thanks Z."

"What are you going to med school for? You never gave me an answer before." It's true, I couldn't decide between a cardiologist and a vascular surgeon.

"I've decided to be a vascular surgeon." I admit. Dr Haven Rivers, vascular surgeon.

Zia raises and eyebrow and props a textbook on her criss crossed knees, "I thought you had to be smart for that."

"Hey!" I grumble, pretending to be mock insulted. But I know she is kidding, it's just the way she is.

"So why vascular, huh?" She asks me while scanning a med book on the endocrine system.

"I want to help people like me." After what happened to me they found that I was bruising excessively almost all over my body. After the doctors examined it and do lots of tests and other stuff I didn't understand at age 10, they had concluded that I had undeveloped blood vessels. Whoa, sounds scary right? Well, I was born prematurely but I appeared to be healthy, just smaller then most babies. But I wasn't. The walls of my blood vessels were thinner then most so I bruised pretty easily. It was a rare condition that only about 300 people in the province of Honduragua were diagnosed with.

Ever since i learned about it i wanted to fix it. And in Haven world that translated to "let's become a doctor". And I was so close now. I had skipped entire grades, started college early, and aced every class. All I had to do was get accepted to med school.

"But Zia, even if I did become a vascular surgeon-"

"Which of course you will!" She interjects

I smile a tiny bit, "I would need all sorts of funding to make the medicines and test things and new machinery to help fix it," I flop back onto my bed, "That's gonna be impossible."

We sit a moment on my bed and just look at the monstrosity of textbooks.

"I HAVE A SUPER BRILLIANT IDEA!" Zia bursts out a few minute later as I am reading about Benedict Arnold in my America textbook.

She doesn't wait for me to say "what?" She just plows ahead.

"So you need funding right?"

"Uh yeah, lots of it," I confirm for the second time.

"And how to you get lots of funding?"

"A good cause? Publicity?" I ask stupidly, I was plenty smart but I had no idea where she was going.

"And what did they announce last night that could potentially give you ALL of that publicity?" And then I get it. It's like the stars a line before my eyes.

"The Selection," I breathe, barely audible.

"BINGO! Haven, if you entered and got Selected, do you have any idea how many people would sponsor you as a doctor? How many people would sponsor your research?!"

A lot. The Selection could be my way to make a difference in the world. All I had to do was pray to be selected. I swear on my father's grave I will never ask for anything again if I can be the girl from Honduragua. I swear it.

**Amaris Foster**

I wake up screaming. Sweat is beading on my forehead and tears moisten my cheeks. It's not real. It's not real. But I couldn't lie to myself. It was real.

The door creaks open, but it isn't my mother who comes for me. Or my father for that matter. It's my brother.

Adrian is the only one who knows what is going on, who fully can comfort me.

I'm sitting up now in bed, my frail arms wrapped around my bony little body covered in scars and bruises. My brother doesn't say anything, he just pulls me into a tight hug. And I just let myself fall apart.

Adrian is 14, four years younger then I am and the only person on this planet I trust. The only person I let lay a finger on my body. But after everything can you blame me?

Thick moonlight runs through my bedroom windows and illuminates Adrian's worried features. His light blond hair was pushed off of his forehead and his blue eyes looked glassy in the night.

"Ris," he says quietly as my tears soak his t-shirt, "It's okay, I'm here now. It's okay."

But you see, it isn't going to be okay. My nightmare doesn't end when I wake up.

"What am I going to do?" I breathe out, barely audible. There is no way out anymore. Nothing I can do. The pure feeling of helplessness courses through me like the blood in my veins. Adrian doesn't answer. Because we both know there is nothing that can be done.

It's almost as if I'm not in control of my life. Rather I'm in the back seat tied up with duck tape as Dashiel drives around like a mad man.

The worst part is that I can still feel the way his hands caressed me even after I'd pulled away twice. The burning feeling of a sting after a slap. Watching the bruises appear everywhere. Seeing my once pretty face fade to look like a sad, forgotten China doll. Breaking down in my room because my mother doesn't understand. Breaking down now because I can't change it.

Dashiel. Just the name makes me sick. My future husband. Can you believe it?

My mother was a "caste climber", she started as a Four and married my father. Not out of love, or friendship, or anything else wholesome. It was out of greed. And she plans the same for me. Marry a Two. Not out of love.

How can I spend my life with him? Why doesn't my mother understand? Is she that blind? Dashiel has done unspeakable things to me. Things that haunt me every time I close my eyes. Traumatic.

She makes me see him. She makes me stay with him. I know every mother wants the best for her daughter. But I don't want this. I don't want to be a stupid Two, I never did.

Adrian's hand stroking my long pale hair is what brings me back to hell. I'm not crying anymore, but I am still clutching him tightly. I'm almost afraid that if I let go I will lose him.

"Help me. I can't live a life like this," I mutter softly.

My brother is quiet for a moment, "Run away."

I pull back so that I am sitting across from him on my quilt, "Are you serious?"

He nods ever so slightly and I can tell he has been wanting to tell me that for a while.

"When?"

"As soon as you like," Adrian answers. Run away? Could I even be self sufficient? How would I survive? It was a brilliant idea, but I wasn't tough for that.

"I wouldn't live long on the run. There has to be something else. Any thing else. An internship. A job. A school. A... An anything!" My voice cracks on the last sentence and any glimmer of hope is gone.

"You could enter in the Selection for Prince William?" Adrian suggests in a hushed tone.

This idea is even more impossible then running away. "I would never be accepted. They need pretty girls for that." So many entered the Selection, and such a small minority could be chosen that I might as well not enter at all.

"So? You're pretty Amaris."

"Like I said, I could never be chosen! So many girls enter!"

"Well, you never know, Ris."

"What if I don't get picked?" I ask panicky, "what do I do then?"

Adrian takes a deep breath and exhaled slowly, which worries me.

Then he looks me in the eye and says, "We run away."

**Callisa Montgomery**

"Callie?" A sleepy voice asks me, "It's your turn to walk Duke." I know it's Lainey and I roll over to face her. She looks like she has fallen back asleep already. Her hair is strewn all over her pillow and her breathing is faint and even. I give her a quick kiss on her forehead and pull the sheets off of myself, being extra careful not to lift them off of Lainey.

I'm not tired, sleeping has never really had this affect on me. Always I wake up too early and go to bed too late. But what can I do? I have primary acute insomnia. It's usually triggered for me by drastic temperatures and physical discomfort. Since last night it was 85 degrees in the small room I share with my 3 sisters, I supposed you could nail that as physical discomfort.

My pajama top is sticking to my back and I feel utterly disgusting. After a quick wipe down with a wet towel in the kitchen I change into some shorts and another t-shirt.

It's still dark out, but the sun should be rising soon.

"Duke?" I whistle, "Dukie?" My family's massive German Shepherd trots over to me by the back door and I scratch his ear as I attach the red leash. Quietly, I open the door trying not to make it creak.

The last thing I want is to wake up Aunt Debra. Last time I did that I got a nice long lecture about respect for others and respecting property. Like its even her property. If our relationship wasn't so strained already I would be sure to wake her every morning with a marching band.

The fresh air hits my lungs and immediately I feel better. It's so arid here in Zuni, a province located above what used to be the country of Mexico, so humidity is non existent.

My house is a small 2 story with 3 bed rooms. My 3 sisters Lainey, Addilyn, and Catherine Jane or "CJ" and I all share a room and 2 beds. Fun right? My 2 brothers, Aiden and James, get their own room and I am seriously considering letting them take Addilyn so that I can have my own bed.

After my dad's train accident my Uncle Benji moved in with us to help out. At the time I couldn't have been more thrilled, but with him came Aunt Debra. Yikes.

He and Debra share a room with my parents. How we manage to all live together I have no idea. Plus we have Duke and tons of assorted crap of CJ's and Lainey's and practically everyone's just lying all over the house. But hey it's home.

I need these walks to clear my head and just get out. Work goes from 10 in the morning to 7 at night so free time isn't something I am familiar with. And while I love home sometimes I just need to get away from it. You know?

The walk to Town Hall and back takes around half and hour and I think Duke deserves a long walk since I am the only one who walks him for more then 10 minutes.

"Nice day huh?" I mutter to Duke. He can't respond but I pretend he knows what I'm saying anyways.

We reach Town Hall as the sun is rising and the doors have already opened to the pristine brick building. They usually are never open this early. It must be around 7 am.

We walk around the small park that surrounds the building and an exhausted Duke collapses under a tree, his tongue hanging out. He is an old dog that was have had since we found him as a puppy when I was 10, no wonder he is tired.

Water, it pops into my head, Duke needs water. Town Hall is open, they must have some.

I give the park a quick look, no one is around and no one in their right mind would dare to run off with Duke. I'm positive.

"Dukie I will be right back," I tell him, "Stay!" But he's already fallen asleep and I tie his leash to a park bench.

The big brick building was once a mansion for some Two's but they converted it ages ago to serve the community. Because of this the layout is still oddly like a house. I've been here a few times before to pick up the handicap waivers for my dad.

When you walk through the big front door your walking into the front desk, what should be a front hall has become the center of buzz. There are already a line of young girls waiting to get to the front desk which is odd because I can't imagine why they are all here.

As the line moves I notice that they are all given a piece of paper on a clipboard and a manilla envelope. What?

When I get to the front a bored looking middle aged man hands me a clipboard as well and it looks like some kind of form. I let out a short laugh when I see it is for the Selection.

"No thank you sir," I say politely, handing him back the clipboard, "I actually just need some water for my dog."

He looks up from his crossword puzzle, "I don't see a dog." His he really a moron.

"My dog is outside," I explain impatiently.

"You shouldn't leave dogs unattended," he replies flatly, as if this is the end of the conversation.

"I am aware," I say tightly, "Could you be ever so kind to spare some water." I'm gritting my jaw, a bad habit I have to stop but it always manages to resurface when I am ticked off.

Mr Meth, as his name tag reads -I'm not joking- squints his beady eyes at me, "What's your name?"

"Callisa Montgomery."

"Go sit in the waiting room, I'll send someone to get you your precious water."

Mr Druggie, as I have decided to name him, says something into a walkie talkie and points me to a waiting room to my left.

Begrudgingly, I trudge into the "waiting room" which is literally just a living room with plastic folding chairs instead of nice furniture and a little television on an end table.

The TV is turned on to the local news which is talking more about the Selection. It seems it is all anyone cared about and the damn thing hasn't even started. It shows an interview with Prince William.

Why did they even name him William? That was always my question. His sister's have names like Arden and Maisie and Wren and here he is sounding all up tight with a stuffy name like William. I never understood why.

He looks so up tight on camera. Guess what he is talking about now? The Selection, duh.

"So, Prince William," The interviewer asks, "Are you ready for this Selection? Any words of advice to all of the young girls of Illea?"

He flashes the camera a smile, a smile that is too large to be real and says, "Don't think that you won't be chosen, you never know. So expect the unexpected ladies," and he winks. I'm for real he just winked at a camera what a loser.

Is this really what he is like? Will must be some shell of a human if he winks at technology. He can't really be this way in real life.

The video feed cuts to "exclusive" footage of inside of the castle. The Prince is talking as he shows one of the 35 rooms for the Selected girls and immediately I envy anyone who gets Selected and is lucky enough to have one of these huge luxurious rooms to themselves.

"Here is your water ma'am." And a tap on the shoulder brings be down from cloud 9. A little girl who can't be more then 5 years old hands me a water bottle and a paper bowl.

"Thanks sweetie," I say with a smile and the little girl blushes and runs out of the room.

When I get back to Duke I find that my thoughts keep lingering to the Prince. If I had a camera in front of me would I act different too? Wouldn't everyone? What is the real Prince Will like?

Duke downs the water almost instantly and I knew it was a smart choice to get him some.

Did he mean what he said about how it could just be me?

I enter Town Hall for the second time today, but for a totally different reason. If anything the line as grown to twice the size. Great.

The teen girls in front of me give Duke disgusted looks as if they have never seen an animal before.

As I look closely I notice nearly every girl has their hair done nicely and twice the amount of makeup on. Me on the other hand I wearing no makeup and my cheeks are pink from the heat. My amber eyes are wide as always and without a doubt flitting around and my dirty blond hair is probably horrendous.

When I get to the front of the line Mr Druggie gives me a look.

"What do ya want now?"

"A Selection form please," I say, taking all my effort to not lash out.

He hands me the clipboard with a glare, "No dogs allowed inside."

As I walk away to fill it out I turn around and give him a smirk, "Well I couldn't just leave my dog unattended sir."

**Done! Wowww, that took longer then I had planned! Next chapter will without a doubt have the Prince in it. **

**So the next chapter will look like this**

**Prince POV**

**And 2 shorter then usual POVs from girls filling out their forms like Callie did today. One of those girls is going to be one of Demigod-Gallagher-Selected and the other spot is open!**

**Which character is your favorite so far? Anyone you want to hear more or less from?**

**Also I promised a list of the Selected girls so here that is...**

**Angeles: London Pearson, 2, model**

**Atlin: Ophelia Swarch, 3, Dentist**

**Baffin: Gemma Darius, 2, swimmer**

**Bankston: Natalia Marye, 7, Burlesque Dancer**

**Belcourt: Bianca De Vega, 2, Dancer**

**Bonita: Annalise Graywall, 2, Ballerina**

**Calgary: Jessa Hopkins, 6, Maid**

**Carolina: Vienna Melbourne, 3, Pharmacist**

**Clermont: Kristen Chenaworth, 3, Doctor**

**Columbia: Aniya Reyes, 5, actress**

**Dakota: Iris Kelley, 3, Astronomer**

**Denbeigh: Julia Tamberlin, 6, Maid and Seamstress at luxury hotel**

**Dominica: Ashlyn Benthos, 2, Actress and Model**

**Fennley: Madeline Washer, 4, Jewler**

**St. George: Alia Hendricks, 4, Personal Trainer**

**Hansport: Lilian Dodger, 5, musician**

**Honduragua: Haven Rivers, 3, studying to be a vascular surgeon**

**Hudson: Jane Sutton, 5, Harp/Flute Player**

**Kent: Fara La Belle, 3, Lawyer**

**Labrador: Hestia Grey, 4, Jeweler**

**Lakedon: Riley Banner, 3, Intern at a music studio**

**Likely: Evangeline Hopkins, 5, Circus performer**

**Midston: Rowan Brynns, 4, store attendant**

**Ottaro: Tatiana Fortesque, 2, professional skier**

**Paloma: Iona Pierre, 7, farm hand**

**Panama: Blaise Parken, 2, politician**

**Sonage: November Hallows, 3, Researcher**

**Sota: Amaris Foster, 3, Librarian**

**Sumner: Fallon Carter, 3, Phycologist**

**Tammins: Emma Williams, 5, Dancer**

**Waverly: Brooklyn Bishop, 6,**

**Whites: Indigo Joy Achard, 3, politician assistant**

**Yukon: Snow Kensington, 3, Therapist**

**Zuni: Callisa Montgomery, 4, Head Waitress**

**Also the Royals!**

**William Maxon, 19**

**Arden Celeste, 19**

**Ronan Shalom, 17**

**Carter Singer, 14**

**Maisie Amberly, 13**

**Wren Mae, 11**

**Also, your reviews have made me so so happy. I can't even tell you, every one was so nice and complimentary. But if I missed something with your character please let me know! That's all for now, also I am on vaca so maybe another update or two in the next week. **

**Callisa Montgomery was submitted by UltimateMaxmericaShipper**

**Amaris Foster was submitted by RosieSmile47**

**Haven Rivers was submitted by orangerosey32**

**Hope you guys like how I portrayed your characters! **

**Xxoo **


	5. Chapter 3: The Outcasts

**Chapter 3 **

**Girls you have heard from so far...**

**Ashlyn Benthos, you know the model one with the headshots**

**Annalise Graywell, the one that's a ballerina with the loud friend in the theater**

**Iona Pierre, the farm girl who can lift really heavy bags**

**Haven Rivers, the vascular surgeon **

**Amaris Foster, the sad POV ;( **

**Callisa Montgomery, she had a doggie! **

**And now Tatiana Fortesque and Fallon Carter! (Their reasons for entering are very similar yes I am aware)**

**Long authors note but PLEASE DO READ! **

**Prince William**

The Selection has been open for about 2 days now and submissions are piling up like crazy, according to my dad.

I'm not particularly nervous, I sort of know what to expect. But I still don't fully understand girls. Arden can help me with that.

"Hey," I say, barging into her room without knocking, which I know drives her mad.

She is on her bed, deep in conversation with our thirteen year old sister Maisie. Two blond heads together, gossiping about one thing or another.

"Don't you ever knock?" Maisie -not Arden, but maybe Arden is rubbing off on her- asks, whipping her head to the door.

I ignore the remark and flop onto my sister's giant bed and close my eyes.

They don't continue talking since I am laying in the middle of the two of them.

"Sorry princesses, please proceed."

Even though my eyes are shut I can practically hear Arden rolling her eyes, in fact I know she is rolling her eyes.

"Keep rolling your eyes Ardichoke, maybe you'll find a brain back there," I say calmly, a smile playing on my lips. When I open my eyes, an angry pair of sisters is looking over me.

"Its a miracle anyone finds you attractive," Maisie snorts and she flicks the side of my face.

"Ow Mais!"

"How have you fooled a country into thinking that you are going to be a good king?" Arden continues with a sarcastic grin, flicking the other side of my head.

"Those girls are gonna run as far away as they can when they realize what a loser you are," Maisie giggles, but it hits a nerve.

What if these girls actually don't like me for who I am? What if they are only here for the crown? What if they fake feelings for me? What if one of them is a lesbian? How do I know who I can trust?

"Actually, Ard could I talk to you about something?" And I shoot her a look, hoping she gets that it's urgent.

Her mouth forms and "O" shape and she turns to Maisie.

"Hey, Mais, Could you leave us alone for a sec?" Maisie only really listens to Arden so I hope she picks up on it and leaves.

She doesn't look happy, but Maisie eventually agrees and runs off to find Carter.

"So what's up?" My twin sister says, shutting the door.

"It's about the Selection," I begin anxiously.

Arden shakes her head, "What isn't about the Selection now?"

"I know right? Anyways," I uncomfortably crack my knuckles, asking for help is not what I usually do, "how do I know which girls I can trust? Which ones genuinely like me?"

My image is cool, collected, and carefree. The triple C's, but the Selection is unearthing plenty of traits I didn't know I had. Like anxious, worried, and a bunch of other unpleasant feelings.

She arches a brow at me, "So now you need help! Mr I Gots This actually admits defeat!"

"Whoa hold up," I say defensively, "I'm not admitting defeat I just need and eye on the inside, got it?"

"Yeah..." Arden's brown eyes narrow, "But I'm not selected so I can't do that dumbo."

Good point.

"Well, um, you could give me your input?" I offer awkwardly, scratching my curly hair.

Her face lights up, "OF COURSE! I couldn't have you marrying a troll. But with your looks that's what might happen." She gives me a smirk, waiting for my response.

"Shut up Ard."

"Make me."

"I don't make trash I burn it."

Arden looks stunned but then collapses into laughs. Arden Celeste Schreave is probably the most immature almost nineteen year old princess ever.

"I'll have to use that one on Ronan," she says, whipping tears of laughter from her cheeks.

I can't imagine what my role model younger brother will say next time when Arden tells him that.

"Promise to help Ardichoke?" I say seriously, hoping she can be serious for once and sense how big of a deal this is.

"I promise."

**Tatiana Fortesque**

My plan wasn't really something I had broadcasted to many people. Well, it actually wasn't my plan, it had been Kalia's.

She had picked me up from my practice in our family's decked out pick up truck meant to endure the heavy winters that Ottaro brought with it and that's when she brought it up.

I had just finished throwing my skis into the trunk along with my helmet, poles, and boots when Kalia excitedly explained what we were doing after practice.

"Hey Kals," I say, sliding into the passenger side of the black pick up.

"Got your gear?" My nineteen year old sister turns around and looks out the window at the trunk, "Tat, where's your snowboard?"

"Today's skiing, tomorrow's snowboarding," I explain, buckling myself in.

"Ohh, right." Kalia doesn't really register what I am saying, her gray eyes flicking to the road as we pull out. I can tell something is on her mind, but I don't press.

The radio turns on and it's the same junk about the Selection. Kalia looks at me, taking a left turn, "Wouldn't it be such a dream to be in the Selection?" She says out of the blue.

The dreamy look on her pale face makes me let out a short laugh, "Well you're old enough. You should enter!"

"Your old enough too, you're seventeen."

The Selection. I think 85% of the reason I would enter is because of those dresses. Every time Queen America comes on the Report in her gowns, or Princess Arden or even Princess Maisie, my heart always does a leap at the sight.

I could never own such a beautiful thing, my family has the money I just don't have an occasion. The Fortesque family is huge. Cousins, grandparents, in-laws, great grandparents, aunts and uncles, there is always some get together. I come from a family of winter athletes. Skiers, snowboarders, ice skaters, you name it we've done it.

There is no reason for gowns like the Schreave girls unless there is an awards banquet for something. But while I am a fantastic skier and a pretty good snowboarder, I've never been to an awards banquet.

Honestly I try to avoid going to the banquets for my brother or sister because it involves social interactions and small talk, things that aren't my strong suit. And besides that, you don't get an awards banquet until you exit the U18 division. My older twin siblings, Kalia and Tynan both have cool award ceremonies that I have been to at least one of.

"So I take it your entering?" I ask.

"Right now actually," Kalia flashes me a smirk and I groan in realization.

"Wait now?! But I'm tired and hungry and I want food!"

"Cmon, one day you can say you were there when Princess Kalia entered in the Selection to win Prince William's heart."

I grunt and sink lower into my seat. My sister always manages to drag me on errands. My fingers begin to pull my long, nearly black hair out of its French braid which leaves my hair wavier then it already is.

The town hall for Fargo, Ottaro is a squat little wooden building. Two stories high, fading wood siding, and windows that radiates a warm light as the sun was going down. If it wasn't in the middle of the sparse downtown I would've assumed it was a house of some sort.

Kalia pulls into the parking lot out front and stops the engine.

"You sure you don't wanna come Tat?"

I sink farther into my seat and pull my royal blue -also my favorite color- beanie farther down on my head.

"I'm not leaving you with the keys, so your going to freeze," She says bluntly.

No response.

"Please! I want you to enter too! You know what? I'll buy you a hot chocolate."

Now that's what gets me. Hot chocolate is the one thing that Kalia knows she can use to get me to do nearly anything.

Without further response I throw open the car door and hop out.

Do they take photos for the form? I probably look very pink and have hat hair but most likely they will have those plastic little combs inside, or Kalia is carrying one in her monster bag.

"We'd like Selection forms please," my sister says when we get inside in her most professional voice. A teenage girl with blond hair and big glasses gives us both grins and hands us identical white papers and black pens without another word. Town hall is empty, probably because we came right before closing.

We sit on a couch and begin to silently fill out the forms.

Full Name:

_Tatiana Grace Fortesque_

Age:

_17_

Province:

_Ottaro_

Height:

_5 feet 8 inches_

Languages spoken:

_Uh, I speak some French so I guess that counts._

_French_.

Likes:

_Hmm..._

_Skiing, snowboarding, skating, animals, popcorn and chocolate_

The rest of the stuff isn't important, and I am surprised by how short the form is. How are they supposed to decide the future queen from this 11 question long form and a head shot?

I wait for Kalia to finish and my mind wanders.

Could the Selection be a new start? A whole new place. I needed a break from the slopes anyways. New friends, no more people whispering about how physical they thought I was. How temperamental. How cold. I could be new Tatiana. The Tatiana here in Fargo was anti-social and not very well liked.

I'm not weird, or gross, or even ugly I'm just hostile.

Socialising isn't my strong point and apparently school requires absurd amounts of it.

That's why I like skiing. Solo.

"Done," Kalia says as she stands up to her full height of 5 foot 9.

"Me too."

"Headshots are that way," the blond, whose name tag reads Paisley, says when we wander back to the desk. She points to a hall way behind her and Kalia gives her a smile and a nod and we descend down the hallway.

My outfit probably isn't photo shoot ready, with my athletic leggings, lace up snow boots, navy ski jacket and beanie.

Oh well.

**Fallon Carter**

I know the girls are whispering about me. Their voices are crystal clear, almost as if they want me to hear them.

"Fallon is such a bitch."

"She's so rude did you hear what she did?"

"Oh my god I hate her."

I pretend to not hear them as they work at the makeup counter and it takes all of my effort to not turn around and slap them all as hard as I physically can.

_Ignore. Ignore. Ignore._

The mascara that's on sale looks like cheap quality so I open it up to take a closer look.

_Ignoring. Ignoring. Ignoring. _

"Hey!" A voice scares me and I drop the mascara onto the counter top.

"Thalia!" I pretend to be angry but I needed someone right now, especially in front of these other girls to show them I wasn't totally friendless.

The girls at the makeup counter stop talking and I'm so relieved, I needed that.

"Let's go," I say, trying to shoot her a look, "This makeup is cheap anyways."

Once we are outside Thalia looks at me.

"What were they saying?"

I take a shaky breath, "The usual."

"They aren't not true! You know that right?" I sit down on a park bench on the edge of the sidewalk and pick at a newly manicured nail.

"I know, it's just, I want things to be different! But I can't change anything because they all think I'm a horrible person after Bradley."

One stupid bad breakup and now everyone thinks I'm exactly what he told them all. What kind of immature loser spreads rumors because he was the one who got dumped?

And thanks Bradley, because you have practically ruined any social life I had. Thalia is the only person who doesn't believe what he was telling everyone and I'm grateful for her.

"You have to show them that you aren't what they keep saying you are!"

"A bitch."

"Yeah, that."

I laugh uneasily and swallow hard, trying to loosen the knot in my throat. "That's never gonna happen."

Thalia leans against the stone wall of the bank with a glint in her eyes, "Maybe it will," she says mysteriously.

I'm not a pessimistic person, I guarantee you. In fact I now identify myself as an optimist, which is funny because there isn't a lot in my life to be optimistic about. Sure, I was depressed. But I've gotten over that. Well, not entirely but I still take the pills. For the most part I am okay now.

"Still not going to happen," I say blandly as I studying my reflection in a nearby passing bus window. Blue eyes, light brown hair, same face as there was last time I checked about 30 minutes ago in the bathroom of a super cute boutique.

The bus pulls away and Thalia squishes on the park bench next to me.

"No I mean what if we did something to change the way people see you?" Another one of Thalia's Mission Impossible plans.

_On this episode we meet an eighteen year old girl, studying to be a Physcologist who is hated by her peers! The sorrow of being and outcast left her severely depressed and she is becoming a Physcologist to help others like her! Now let's make her popular!_

I shift my bags to face her, "How do you plan to do that? This whole town thinks I'm bad news."

As I say it I suddenly become more keenly aware of the heads turning towards me, the voices dropping as they walked by. Did people really hate me that much? Did they really believe every sickening lie Bradley had fed to them? I'm not mean, or antisocial, or cold, I'm not any of those things. Yet that's what everyone expects from me now.

"What if the target range wasn't in this town?" She gives me a look like I am supposed to know her game plan, but I sit there dumbly instead, trying to pull the pieces together.

"Uh, I'm sorry Thals I don't get it."

"What if the target range was all of Illéa?"

My brow furrows and I look down at my ballet flats. OH!

"The Selection?" I ask incredulously.

"YES!" Thalia squeals so loud a passing elderly couple turns and looks genuinely concerned for her, "Nobody outside of this town knows you! You could prove to the whole country that you are more then some half baked lies! Fallon, you could become some sort of the Illéa's sweetheart. What's this town compared to a whole country? Oh my god I'm brilliant."

It makes sense. Show up all these girls and show them that Fallon Carter is not the psychopath Bradley claims she is on national television.

My frown turns into a devilish grin and my excitement is barely containable. I could do this. I could do this.

Then I would come back and everything would be different. I could have friends and a life outside of Thalia and I's small social circle. Nobody has bothered to become friends with me because they think I'm bad news. Now people would know the real me wasn't at all what they believed.

I didn't even imagine what I would do if I wasn't Selected. That thought couldn't penetrate my blind joy right now.

I had to rely on being Selected. It could change everything.

**DONE DONE DONE! I was on vaca, so excuse the later update. **

** I'm pretty sure next chapter is going to be the Report when the names are picked but idk yet. If you want to hear from your character and you haven't yet the best way is to review!**

**In the near future I plan on doing POVs for Brooklyn Bishop, Indigo Joy Achard, Snow Kensington, possibly Arden, but other then that it's reviews! People that follow the story are the ones that are getting POVs.**

**All of your reviews on the characters are so nice and I totally love reading them all and I get all warm and fuzzy. In not sure how many of you realize that the minute it takes to write a nice review makes the author feel really really awesome**

**Sorry the chapter headings and titles are all screwed up. I will straighten that out. AND I had to re upload the last chapter twice because there were so many punctuation and formatting errors that I simply couldn't leave it up**

**ALSO, feel free (actually please do :D) go back and add more detail to your submissions. If you feel your girl had a short personality, or no backstory, GO BACK AND ADD MORE! it's never too late. And the more detail in your submission, the better the chances that your character is staying for a while ;)**

**Do me a super huge favor and go submit a girl to my bestest friend, 4Love4Love4 in her new Selection SYOC! I am submitting 4 girls, Blanca Van Buren, Waverly Bennett, Chance Huntley, and Bridget Cohen so be on the lookout for them in her amazing story!**

**Last order of business here, if you have a Selection story and need submissions I will gladly submit a girl or make a royal family for you or something like that. Just shoot me a PM and I will happily make one.**

**Later dudes**

**Xxoo **

**QOTD: DO YOU WANT NEXT CHAPTER TO BE THE REPORT OR A FEW MORE GIRLS POVS? Please comment!**


	6. Chapter 4: Rebels and Curiosity

_**A/N: I honestly feel like this isn't my best chapter, but I had to post something and squeeze in a few more point of views before the Report**_

**Chapter Four: The Rebel and Curiosity**

**Snow Kensington, Three**

I squint as I watch the update on the Report. Terrence, the Gavril of my generation, is informing us on the last few days of the Selection.

"We have gotten well over a million submissions, a shocking 10% of these girls are from Angeles." Where the movie stars are.

Terrence continues ever so happily and if someone told me he was in love with his job I would've believe them whole heartedly, "There are TWO more days to enter girls so chop chop! Don't want to miss out on this once in a life time opportunity!

The video feed cuts from Terrence to an interview I had already seen a few days ago of the Prince.

"Are you nervous for your Selection?" An interviewer asks and I catch a glimpse of who is talking. A red head college girl. Based on her hair she definitely is a natural brunette and she is wearing colored green contacts. Her natural eye color, I conclude, is blue.

Prince William doesn't hesitate to answer, "Should I be?" He jokes with a half grin. But his eyes flicked to the left, that means he's lying. So he is nervous!

"Not at all! Tons of wonderful girls have entered and we expect even more in the next few days!" The -faux- redhead chirps gleefully, probably bent over backwards she is so happy do have snatched this interview.

"Next question," she continues, flustered for no apparent reason, "Any advice your father has given you?"

King Maxon. When this whole Selection started a few weeks ago my mom told me all about the former Prince's Selection. How big of a deal it was, how Queen America wasn't even the favorite, how my mom had been pulling for Kriss or maybe Celeste.

The Prince puts on a thinking face, which I can tell is fake. He has advice, he just doesn't want to give it. For a split second he bites the inside of his lower lip. From how he did it I know it isn't intentional, it must be an old habit of his. Whatever King Maxon told him he isn't willing to crack.

"Afraid I can't say," William says breezily, "We have to leave some mystery, don't we?" That same half grin reappears from before and for the first time I notice a dimple on the left side of his face.

I pick up on everything, every little bit, so how did I miss it before? I love knowing what makes people tick. While some people are fascinated by the face off the clock, I am rather fascinated by the gears that make it work.

The interview dissolves and Terrence reappears to continue about more of the Selection business.

What makes the Prince tick?

"Hey hey," my younger sister Cathy says, bouncing over the couch and landing next to me on the couch in our family room.

My psychology book lies open in my lap, but I stopped focusing at the beginning of the Prince's interview.

I reach to turn off the television, but Cathy stops me, watching intently as to what Terrence has to say.

Typical Cathy. With a roll of my eyes I draw my attention back to my textbook and continue reading. At the University I plan on being a psychology major and I have a started pouring over my textbooks already, determined to be prepared by the time college starts.

It's the beginning of August, the Selected girls are to be announced August 17 and school starts August 31. Currently, it's August 5 and I have already finished my first textbook and I am slowly working my way through the second.

Cathy turns to me, a mirror image of myself. Constantly we are told we resemble each other. Same olive colored eyes, small freckles, ash blonde hair cut just below my shoulders, same heart shaped face and long eyelashes.

"Would you ever enter?" Cathy asks me randomly.

I give her a sideways glance, "Not sure, it's nearly over anyways." And I turn back to my book.

Cath lets out a short huff, "So?"

"So?" I fire back, knowing Cath is going to pester me into doing this like she always does.

"Why won't you?" She furrows her brow a crease appears between her two eyebrows, something we both do when we are tense.

"Because I won't be chosen! Why enter if there is no chance at all?" I feel as if I have won this argument. I consider myself a realist and stuff like the Selection seems slightly pointless. So many people enter, thinking it's going to be them and only one out of hundreds of thousands of girls is picked based off of their beauty?

It's no coincidence that nearly every girl in the Selection has always been pretty. A plain girl like me has no chance, despite what people say about my appearance.

Cathy cracks her knuckles, an "inventors habit" she likes to refer to it as.

"You know Yukon is the most sparsely populated Province next to Baffin, right?"

I know this, I'm not dumb. With a short nod, Cathy continues her little lecture.

"So you odds of being chosen are better then any one else's!" Hardly. I'm not a negative person, but I'm not even bothering to disguise my unsureness.

Do I even want to enter? If I'm chosen it would mess up college for sure and I couldn't let that happen.

"But it would mess up college!" I say as if it's obvious.

"You can go to college when it's over, with your brain it shouldn't be hard to catch up anyways," Cath says with a small shrug. She's right.

It wouldn't be too hard to catch up, and I could always attend college a year later. But I don't want to attend college later, I want to go now!

I turn away from Cath and watch the television interview.

Flashes of the royal family and the past nineteen years of Prince William's television appearances are playing right now. From when he was a toddler with dark hair and chubby thighs, to probably the most attractive 13 year old boy around with his now famous blond curls. Princess Arden was by his side the whole time with matching golden hair.

At some point Prince Ronan joined the mix. Dark blond hair and wide blue eyes that took in everything around him. A mini Maxon, if you will. The golden boy of Illéa, cute, charming, definitely intelligent, but so reserved he seemed inhuman to me. Why was that?

Prince Carter looked like he had been making trouble since day one with his brown hair that always looked like he had run his hand through it multiple times and his blue eyes were always flitting around curiously, looking for a way to mess something up.

Princess Maisie looked like a doll, always has. Reddish blond hair and large brown eyes. She never looked happy to me. Her mouth was always pressed in a firm line. Maisie just looked spiteful and rather annoying honestly.

Princess Wren was the cutest. Occasionally, by accident, King Maxon would refer to her as Wreny-Mae in interviews. Wren just looked happy. Like life was a big, shiny present she got to unwrap each day and she couldn't wait. Her long hair was red and could be mistaken for a young America, except her eyes brown.

What made this family tick? Why did they the way they did, so uptight on camera and official all the time.

How awesome would it be if I were to show up to college with a full physiological analysis on the Royals? If I could know the real them.

"Yoo hoo, Snowieeee," Cath says annoyingly, trying to get my attention.

"Mhmm," I murmur softly, my attention staying glued on the screen, my focus unbroken. I don't even recognize that Cathy just called me by a nickname that I hate with a passion.

My name is Snow and I am from the Yukon, some coincidence.

"Snow!" Cath says harsher, trying to grasp back my attention. But I can't be bothered, I'm too captivated by the family on the television, something I have never been before.

**Indigo Joy Achard, Three**

The phone rings again and I suck in a breath before I answer it, composing myself to deal with whatever moron is on the line.

"Hello this is Mr Consorta's office, his assistant speaking," I say in my most professional voice possible.

This is how my day was. Answering phone calls and carrying around my boss's brief case and organizing meetings. I hated every second of it.

This isn't the life I would like to have at all. Dealing with imbeciles and surly politicians and pretending to care.

Politics bore me to death, I don't care at all, but this is the life my mother wants for me. Become a lawyer like her and marry a Two.

Today was one of the few days where I just got to sit around the office and answer calls while Mr Consorta was off with his family in Dominica on vacation.

When the call is over I go back to writing. Writers block has been my current issue for the past two days. Not a single word had been written since then.

Frustradly trying to find inspiration, I flip to the back page of my spiral notebook and finish drawing the mandala I had been working on earlier until the phone rings again.

My mother claims it a miracle I even have a job with my looks, even if it isn't the lawyer position she wishes it were.

"Indigo Joy," she always says, "You look like a hoodlum, pull yourself together!" She has a problem with everything I do, probably even the way I breathe.

When I got my nose stud she nearly had a heart attack, "Indigo Joy! No body likes a goth! You look like a whore! Take that out!"

See, to everyone I am Indigo, even Indie, which I hate. But to my mother I am Indigo Joy, my full first name, her subtle way at asserting dominance over me. Almost to say, "I have ownership over you."

It's not my fault I am this way, she practically set me up for it. I'm one of those people that when you tell me not to do something, you sure as hell can bet the second you turn your back I'm gonna go do it.

Don't pierce your nose. Done.

Don't pierce your cartilage. Oops.

No purple highlights Indigo Joy! Sorry not sorry.

One more ear piercing and you're disowned. Oh well.

I already am strange looking, so why not play it up? My skin is pale as heck. My height isn't my friend, in all honesty. And my eyes are two completely different colors.

My right eye is blue and my left eye is dark brown. While I don't have a lazy eye, the contrasting colors make it seem like my blue one is always out of whack. People always have trouble looking me in the eyes. It's not common to have Complete Heterochromia, but I'm not some sort of medical freak that most pretend I am.

Just as I slam the phone down it rings again and I pick it up with the same introduction as before. After I plan a meeting I pretended to care about I hang up the phone.

How much longer of this can I take? My life is wasting away. I want to become an author but that would never be accepted at all by my mother. I flip to the front of my black notebook, where some of my story ideas are.

How could my ambitions not be supported? What kind of a parent forces their child into a life they don't want? What kind of a drab future is dawning on me? My blood begins to boil, I can feel it.

In an attempt to calm myself I shakily trace the letters of my name written in script on the inside cover. Occasionally I got wound up like this, so angry at myself for letting myself be controlled like this. How have I let this happen?

This is a topic that usually crosses my mind. How stupid are you Indigo?!

I just need a breather sometimes. A small little break. Not necessarily an escape, no that's much too dramatic. A breather.

With a sigh I blow a strand of black hair out of my blue eye. But what options did I have?

**Demigod-Gallagher-Selected: I swear I was going to have Brooklyn in this chapter! I swear I was! But I think I want to have her as one of the first POVs in the castle, sowwy for the wait**

**What do you think of the girls you have met so far?!**

**Next chapter is the Report! What you all have been waiting for! **

**Reviews= more POVs for your girl, or your strongest character if you submitted more then one ;)**


	7. Chapter 5: The Report

**Stealing this idea from ARandomFangirlier, but comment questions for me! Anything at all about me ! (As long as it isn't too personal like name, year of birth, school, email, phone number, address COMMON SENSE PLEASE) Cant wait for your questions! **

**THE REPORT AHHHH HERE IT COMES!**

**Prince William**

I should be nervous. Most sane people would be. The funny thing is that I had been nervous before, but this is one of those things that I have no control over. The moment I realized that the choosing of these girls what out of my grasp my nerves vanished.

Why fret over something I can't control?

For old times sake Gavril is going to be on stage with us tonight and do some of the interviews. Even though he retired about 7 years ago now, it seems only right that he be a part of this. Considering he opened my father's Selection as well.

The audience doesn't know though, it's a bit of a surprise.

Arden has been unusually quiet today, not bothering to make any rude remarks or try to chip away at my confidence. I'm grateful for it, but I feel as if I needed her humor during something that is so serious.

The girls rooms on the second floor of the palace have been totally made over. Each room is still to be personalized after the girls are Selected based off of their interests and hobbies, but they have been painted and new furniture has been put in.

Most of the suites are painted a pastel color of some sort. A blue, a green, a white, a lavender, all nice colors I guess.

After tonight there is still a week before the girls arrive, but based off of the wild frenzy of activity at home you'd think they were already here.

Maids are being interviewed and assigned, menus prepared, fabrics ordered, not a single thing is being over looked.

Backstage they are fussing over how we look. I know my reactions are being shown on The Report so mentally I have prepared my deadpan face, which I'm 100% sure will fly out the window the second it starts, but at least I can say I tried.

The suit I am wearing feels stiff and I do my best to not squirm uncomfortably as it's being re-fitted.

My mother is incredibly excited and has been chirping advice all morning. She usually isn't this way, but I can tell tonight is going to be total dê ja vu for her.

Carter and Arden look like they are placing bets (thanks guys), Ronan is biting his thumbnail as he is re reading some book with fire on the front. Maisie looks sullen, as she always does before public appearances and Wren is bouncing around all of the cameras backstage.

_**7:56**_

A women in a headset places us all on a sectional gray leather couch, I am between my mother and father, as I have been told I would be.

Camera crews are already set up and a podium is set up on the other side of the stage for Terrence and Gavril.

"You nervous?" My father asks in a low voice. He had been here and done this before and he had told me many times he had worried over his Selection.

"Surprisingly no," I admit, "I can't control anything that happens tonight."

He lets out a small laugh, "Wish I had been like that before my Selection."

I almost said something else, but as the bright lights are turned on I can't remember what it was.

_**7:59**_

My mother takes my hand and gives it a squeeze, she is probably more excited then I am. This moment over 20 years ago her life had been completely turned upside down by her name on a white card. How many girls would that happen to tonight?

_**8:00**_

I'm on TV. And nearly every girl is watching. Nearly every person is watching.

The anthem is playing and I can hardly sit through the announcements on the rebel advances and The Draft which will be coming up soon. Just because I am not nervous doesn't mean I'm not excited.

This is the part where the Master of Events usually comes up and introduced Terrence. But tonight everyone was in for a surprise.

Terrence walked out in place of the Master of Events.

"Hello citizens of Illéa! Most of you remember how on this very special night not so long ago, most of you young ladies were dying to jump at the opportunity of a lifetime for our beloved King Maxon. Well, the next generation is coming in hot as we all await anxiously for Prince William's Selection to begin! But," Terrence takes a breath to gather himself and partially for dramatic effect, "It seems tonight a certain blast from the past is going to be with us."

On cue, Gavril steps out from behind the curtain.

I don't remember what he says, probably something inspirational or knowing Gavril as a family friend, makes some sort of wise crack joke at my expense. Probably talking to my father. The next thing I know he is holding a microphone to my mouth.

"We've asked you before, but any advice from your father that you are willing to share with us?" His voice is so fine tuned for show business, even at age 60.

"Shh," I say jokingly, "It's a secret!"

Thankfully Gavril lets out a laugh and we banter a bit more back and forth before he moves on, holding the microphone to my mother.

"It seems like only yesterday that beautiful Queen America was picked on a night quite like this one. Any words of wisdom to the young girls o it there of Illéa?"

She already had her answer prepared, from the way she delivered it she must've had it memorized for ages.

"As Queen Amberly said before Maxon's Selection," my mother takes a fleeting moment to just gaze at my father, it's incredible how much they still love each other after years of marriage and six kids, " 'It's old advice but it's good: be yourself'."

"Very well stated Your Highness," and he turns back to face the largest camera confront of us, "Now. Are you ready for what you have all been waiting for?"

All around Illéa, from Yukon to Panama, hands are tightening, breaths are being taken in, a hush of anxiety has suddenly been laid on the whole country.

"Lets get started shall we?" Gavril and Terrence stand next to each other at the podium, each with an even sized deck of fat white cards.

I know that my face is hovering in a box on the corner of every screen in the country, and that thought gets me slightly nervous.

_Breathe. Breathe._

Terrence reads the first card, "from Midston, Miss Rowan Brynns a Four!"

A girl with a huge smile on her face flashes on the screen behind us. Wait it's actually starting?

Rowan's face is gone by the time I compose myself. This is actually happening. It always felt like my Selection was never real, like it was implied but would never actually be a reality. The realness of it didn't sink in until I saw Rowan's smile on the screen behind us...

Gavril's turn. "From Sota, Miss Amaris Foster a Three!"

This time I have prepared myself for it.

Whoa. The second I see her face I am stricken by it. She's beautiful. Long blond hair and a perfectly proportioned face. But there's something wrong with her expression. Her blue eyes look lost, like her mind is elsewhere. Lady Amaris's picture disappears and I can only imagine how I looked on camera for that one. Probably in love with her gorgeous features, that's gonna be a great one in the tabloids tomorrow.

"From Likely, Miss Evangeline Hopkins, a Five!" This girl looks hopeful, which surprises me. Her bronze hair is back in a ponytail and a few stray ringlets frame her face.

Onto the next one.

"From Tammins, Miss Emma Williams a Five!" Not one two has been Selected yet, an a surprising amount from the Five's and we are only four girls in.

"From Zuni, Miss Callisa Montgomery a Four!" Another Four? This girl was striking as well, but for different reasons then the blond was. A smirk was on this girls lips and she looked pretty pleased with herself. A devilish gleam was in her amber eyes and I couldn't guess why she looked so happy with herself.

"From Atlin, Miss Ophelia Swarch a Three!" Her face flashed before my eyes but I think what I was doing the most during her snippet on TV was trying to say her name ten times fast.

Ophelia Swarch.

Ophelia Swarch.

Ophelia Swarch.

"From Yukon Miss Snow Kensington a Three!" She was pretty as well, one of the few girls I will for sure remember.

Her features were delicate, like a China dolls and her olive eyes were large as if to take in everything she saw. Her dark blond hair was simply pushed off her forehead and it was very clear she wasn't aware of her own beauty.

"From Panama, Miss Blaise Parken a Two!" I recognized this girl from the television, her father was a refined politician and his daughter, Blaise, was always by his side. She was beautiful as well, and I had come to realize most the girls would be. But she looked slightly tempting, like she was daring the camera to make a move on her.

"From Whites, Miss Indigo Joy Achard a Three!" This one completely caught me off guard. Without even looking past her hair I knew she was a rebel type. Shoulder cut black hair and purple streaks running through it. Wait, were her eyes different colors? The image is replaced before I can get a better look.

"From Dominica, Miss Ashlyn Benthos a Two!" Her image was unique, I could tell she had spent hours practicing this face just to get it right. I also recognized her from the chick flicks I occasionally catch Arden watching by herself.

The next few girls from Kent, Dakota, and Bankston were all pretty, but none caught my eye particularly. I tried to remember their names. Girl from Kent was Fara La Belle and the girl from Dakota was Iris Kelley. The contestant from Bankston I think was named Natalia Marye or something along those lines, all upper castes.

"From Lakedon, Miss Riley Banner a Three!" A girl with dark wavy hair and brown eyes appeared. The grin on her face seemed truly genuine, I noted.

Just like that Riley's picture was gone as quick as it came.

"From Honduragua, Miss Haven Rivers a Three!" Her pale eyes were hidden behind a pair of glasses and like most of the other girls she was a brunette. A scar was visible on her jaw and I wondered how she could've gotten it.

"From Angeles, Miss London Pearson a Two!" The second Two of the competition. Another actress I noted, and I recognized her much quicker then I recognized Ashlyn. She had this sexy look about her, but then again so did most Two's.

"From Ottaro, Miss Tatiana Fortesque a Two!" Most of the other girls were done up nicely, like they had known about the photos. Tatiana looked careless. As far as I could tell she was wearing a winter jacket and her pale skin was pink in the cheeks and nose, like she'd been out in the cold to long. Her faded eyes stood out against her skin and her long dark hair hung in waves. Another effortless beauty.

"From Paloma, Miss Iona Pierre a Seven!" Wait, a Seven? How could a Seven have entered and been chosen. I cast my dad a glance but he doesn't turn my way. By the time I look up her face is gone. I have no idea what Iona looks like, uh oh.

"From Bonita, Miss Annalise Graywall a Two!" Her hair was loose on her shoulder in some kind of braid and she seemed to be laughing at something that was said behind the camera. The shot was a perfect candid.

"From Baffin, Miss Gemma Darius a Two!" This girl was another Two I didn't recognize, like Tatiana. Maybe she was an athlete? Her skin was tanned, which is odd because Baffin is a northern province but I don't dwell on it for too long. Gemma looks focused, staring down the camera. Her aquamarine eyes were narrowed ever so slightly and her sandy brown hair was swept up into a ponytail.

"From Waverly, Miss Brooklyn Bishop a Six!" Another blue eyed and brown haired girl shows up. She was the first girl to be unsmiling in her picture. Brooklyn looked serene, like she was posing for a portrait. Not rude or cold, just proud, like she had someone to be strong for.

After this the names begin to bleed together. Two girls named Alia and Anyia come one after the other. That's going to give me trouble for sure.

Two more Six's named Jessa Hopkins and Julia Tamberlin come after that, again with the similar names!

November Hallows from Sonage is a beautiful dark skinned girl and after her comes Hestia Grey from Labrador.

By the time the names are finished I can hardly think.

This is happening.

It's in my control now.

One of these girls is my future wife. The light of my world. The love of my life. How is that possible. The thought suddenly makes me dizzy.

Out of these 35 beautiful girls, which one could it possibly be?

**hey hey! So I finally posted it. Do you want a reaction chapter next or just jump right in to the plain rides and interviews?**

**Your kind reviews are so so nice! I love reading them and they always make me so happy so keep being amazing reviewers!**

**School AND travel sports begin for me tomorrow so please be patient with my updates :)**

**Stealing this idea from ARandomFangirlier, but comment questions for me! (Nothing personal like name, year of birth, school, email, phone number, address COMMON SENSE PLEASE) Cant wait for your questions! **

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALLI LOVE U LOTS ! 4Love4Love4**

**Later dudes**

**Xxoo Cat**


	8. Chapter 6: Kickoff

**So I am aware this chapter sucks. I'm sorry. I felt horrible that I didn't get one out to you sooner.**

**ALSO I wrote this probably 4 times and the plane rides are so awkward and BORING so yeah.**

**Sorry in advance that this sucks. I feel like I took forever to give you a crap chapter**

**so I feel terrible handing you an anticipated chapter that isn't my best work, BUT ITS BEEN THREE WEEKS ALMOST x_x**

**Chapter 5: Kickoff**

**Lady Snow Kensington**

I'm not sure at what point the phone started ringing. But all I know is that it didn't stop.

Preparation for the Selection is way harder then I could've ever thought. I'm not an idiot, but I didn't think they would come and make sure I wasn't trying to smuggle bombs in my bra or a knife in the picture frame I planned to bring. Good Lord.

A day after they announced it, we received our first call from a lady named Natasha Primenovavich who asked in her very excited voice if we had any questions about the process.

3 palace guards came and went over security measures with my family because now we were a target of the rebels. Fantastic.

A super official lady came to make sure I hadn't lied on my application about everything and that I actually was Snow Kensington which was very annoying because she quizzed me on everything I had written and the whole time she was eyeing me suspiciously.

We went a few days without visitors but the phone was going off plenty. Then a girl with dark purple hair showed up to take my measurements for my new dresses and asked me simple questions on my style. She could be very pretty, the girl with the purple hair, but I could tell from her attitude that she wanted to stand out. This wasn't who she really was, but she wanted to be different. Probably a bad choice made in her rebellious phase.

What if they do that to me? Would they change me just to stand out? To be remembered?

After the first few days of interviews with bored officials from the palace and being slammed with visits from people I hardly knew who obviously were trying to get in good with me before I left, everything seemed to move quicker. What, did they think I would send them a dress or something? I brushed off the surprise visits from half strangers and spent most of the time between Selection crap reading.

I have had no time to worry about what I'm doing for college, now that the Selection has screwed up my future. But now that I'm alone in my room, I can't imagine what I'm going to do.

Go to school a year later? That seems to be the only option. Guess my plan for life is getting put on hold

It's no point in whining over it, I know that. But I can't help but wonder what would've happen if I hadn't enter. Plenty of other girls would've clobbered me over the head for the opportunity to go, and now I have it and I don't even want it.

The phone calls and interviews abruptly stopped 2 days before I was due to leave. Probably giving me a few days to live the rest of my normal life in peace.

The last visitor was a short, plump women with rectangle glasses. Her roundness was probably due to a medical condition, I note, due to her swollen feet and sickly completion around her cankles. Her gray eyes were squinty and her glasses, which I could tell were bifocals, prescription were clearly not strong enough for her.

"Could we speak in private please?" The women asks immediately after entering, no hello, no "sorry we ruined your life plan", nothing.

My mother, who's frail hand was on my shoulder, seemed surprised by the sudden request, but responds with a "yes, of course."

My mom's grip on my shoulder tightens as she leads the women to our dining room which can be closed off with two pocket doors. What could they possibly still have to ask me?

Oh, wait, Natasha mentioned that my final visitor would be going over the official rules with me. Now I remember.

"Cathy," I say, when we enter the red painted dining room and see my younger sister sitting at the table with a work sheet, "Could you gives us a minute?"

Her olive eyes wander from the official to my mother, to me, as if to silently ask what's going on. Truthfully, I'm not sure. Why would we need to be in private to discuss rules?

She doesn't ask any other questions, but gathers her school work with a confused look on her face. Before she edits the door nearest to me, Cathy whispers, "Tell me what's going on."

I give a small shake of my head, "I don't know. More rules?"

Cathy doesn't ask anything else. She's learned that if I don't know what's going on then it must be pretty top secret.

After she scoots out I shut the door with a creak and join my mother and the round palace lady at the dining table.

"Miss Snow Kensington of Yukon," Plump lady begins in a darkly sincere tone, "from now onwards, you are property of Illéa. It's your responsibility to take care of yourself. You will take vitamins daily, as supplied for you. And here are papers for you to fill out as we begin." She hands me several sheets in varying color and I hardly get a peak at them before she begins chatting again.

"I am here to inform you on the official rules of the Selection and ask you a few more questions of matters that are to be discussed privately." She shoots me a stern look before proceeding from the clipboard in her hand, "Now let's begin, shall we?"

**Lady Callisa Montgomery**

The morning of the plane rides my outfit was already folded at the base of the twin bed I shared with my sister. When I woke up it was before sunrise, as always.

When the Selected official came, they gave me sleeping pills to help with my insomnia, but truthfully I haven't touched a single one. Since I am stubborn, I continue my cycle of waking before dawn everyday without fail.

It wasn't my day to walk Duke, but I felt like I needed too. How long until I saw him again? And he wasn't a young dog...

The outfit was the first of many they have supplied for me. Every Selected girl has to wear the same outfit to the airport. The black slacks are perfectly fitted, they were fitted earlier in the week when they took my measurements for our dresses. The top is a crisp button up white blouse with short sleeves. Rather plain. The shoes we can pick ourselves, the last bit of freedom we get for the foreseeable future.

No one is awake yet in our house and I carefully slip out of the room I share with my three sisters to go find our family's German Shepherd, Duke.

Tomorrow I would wake up in a different bed. In a different province. I'd be referred to as Lady Callisa, not Callie or Calls or stupid head or butt face. Everything would be different. My nice little order will be thrown out of whack.

Right as I cracked the door open to slip out into the sunrise, I heard a creak behind me and when I whirl around I see that it's CJ, all dressed for the day.

"Catherine Jane! Get back in bed!" I hiss at her, being awfully cautious to not wake up Aunt Debra. I wouldn't be surprised if Aunt Debra was awake already, waiting to yell at me before I left to prove that just because I was now a Three (haha she's jealous) and she was still a Four it didn't make me any better then she thinks she is.

CJ's blond curls had been flattened by sleep and her hazel eyes were wide awake. "I want to go for a walk." She says silently, eyeballing Aunt Debra's room to make sure the door is shut.

"No, Ceej. You need your sleep kiddo," I say in a hushed tone. I unclip Duke's leash and hand it on the hook by the back door. Duke lets out a whine and I shoot him a look that reads "shut up, I will walk you later I promise".

I hoist CJ up into my arms and she mumbles a few words in protest, but doesn't resist and by the way her head lazily rests on my shoulder on the way up the stairs I know she is exhausted.

"Why do you have to go?" She asks me, half asleep, as I skillfully walk up the stairs without making a creak.

"I don't want too. I wish you could come with me. Then you could be a princess," I whisper with a smile.

A hint of a sleepy grin appears on her small features, "You be a princess Callie. You'd be the bestest princess ever." With nothing else to say, I hug her small body a little closer to mine. CJ deserved to be a princess. With her heart of gold and the ability to see the sunshine in everyone she would make a way better princess then I ever could be.

**Lady Tatiana Fortesque **

I was the first to arrive for the plane ride.

I had been in private jets a few times before, mostly for snowboarding or skiing competitions but none of them had been as lavish as this.

Big square cushioned couches lined both sides of the plane. Multiple, small tables were carefully placed in front of the couch cushions. Snacks and cold waters were already placed on each of the tables, along with a few gossip magazines on the Selection so far. It felt like an exclusive hotel lobby.

To my displeasure, the snacks included neither chocolate or popcorn, my two favorite foods. Darn.

Apparently now we are all on diets for the Selection and I am praying that they don't cut out popcorn. The official didn't specify what sort of food we would be fed, but I'm hoping it isn't cabbage or something else repulsive.

There was a fuzzy thrill in the pit of my stomach. Almost like I was going to throw up or a loop on a roller coaster. A nervous anticipation was building up slowly.

To be honest, I'm not sure how long I was in the plane by myself with no one to keep me company except the gossip magazines. And in case you were wondering, according to the magazine, the Prince and I would not make a cute couple because sprinklekitty0509 thinks I am too pale and my black wavy hair would look "so dead" with his blond curls. Thanks.

It's so bizarre to read something a total stranger wrote about you in a gossip column. Never in my life would I have thought that people who didn't know me the slightest would have enough nerve to critique me for no other reason then to their amusement. How dare they! Guess I better get used to it.

After I have poured over- out of boredom- at least 3 of the magazines, another girl arrives.

Our plane is taking a few of the northern provinces, which I can't be too sure but I had guessed Atlin, Baffin, Calgary, and me, Ottaro.

Yet the girl in front of me was from Yukon.

"I'm Snow," She says business like with a warm smile, extending her hand for me to shake it, "Snow Kensington."

For a moment I don't take her hand, purely out of the fact that I suck at socializing. Snow Kensington?! I'm sharing a plane with her?! Supposedly, she is one of the favorites.

"Tatiana Fortesque," I say, and it comes out cooler then I would've liked, as I shake her small hand.

"The snowboarder, right?" Snow asks with a sense of recognition without acknowledging my hostile tone, seemingly genuinely interested as she plops down on the couch cushion next to mine.

"Actually, I do both skiing and snowboarding. Snowboarding gets more publicity, but I'm better at skiing honestly," I explain, twisting a strand of black hair that came loose from my bun.

She nods, "I always wished I knew how to ski. My name is Snow, I live in Yukon, yet I have never been on skis in my life! Ironic isn't it?" Since I'm not quite sure what else to do, I let out a short laugh and when it fades we both sit there in silence, unsure what else to do.

I hate ice breakers. You know how at school they would make you stand up and say one thing about yourself or get to know your assigned sweet partner? I always have detested those activities. Never have I been one to make friends easily, and the awkward introductions make it even worse.

"So, how's the last few weeks been for you?" Snow asks, trying to keep the conversation up. But she already knows the answer, we both do.

"Interesting," I admit, "I'm used to the interviews and reporters but nothing like this."

"It's a little more intense then I ever thought, too," Snow replies as she fixes her provinces flower, a forget me not, behind her ear. When she is satisfied, her attention turns back to me.

"Are you nervous at all?" I question, trying to engage a conversation.

She exhales through her nose, "Yes and no. I don't want this thing to turn me into something I'm not. There's a theory that having cameras around changes the way you act over time, argh I can't remember what it's called!" Snow squinches up her nose for a moment, obviously frustrated that she can't remember the name of this simple theory.

After a few short moments, she just says, "Ah, it'll come to me in a few minutes."

**Lady Amaris Foster**

It was a relief to finally be away from home.

As predicted my mom had a freak out and went on to rant and scream about how I had messed up my marriage to Dashiel. Honestly I don't want to talk about Him.

The whole week had been full of people touching me, prodding me, shots and vitamins that are supposed to make me look less sickly. Every time someone would lay a finger on me I flinched and his face flashed before my mind. I hated it.

I hated how he'd ruined me and taken advantage of me. I hated how he'd left me broken.

What was the chance I would get in the Selection? Like a million to one. But some how, just when I needed it most, I caught a break. It's seems so unreal that I got this lucky and at the perfect time.

But how long I can hide in the Palace walls? Truthfully, I don't know.

I'm the last to arrive to the plane. The plane was taking off out of Angeles, so naturally our train ride from Sota to Angeles was the longest distance away.

But the train was beautiful. Air conditioned, snacks and drinks at the ready, deep cushioned seats, I couldn't believe it. Everything about the Selection was so lavish. Even the clothes I had been given to wear were of the finest quality.

On the gangway walk to the plane, I nervously readjust the white hawthorn blossom, my province flower, behind my ear. Every girl had to wear the flower behind their left ear, one of the small things that set us apart today.

A quiet official follows me in all black, carrying my small rolling suitcase that I decided to bring. The gangway walk seems over much too soon, and now I have to meet the people I will be spending the foreseeable future with.

I feel as if it's one of those moments that you never think is going to come, that you'd never have to deal with. And then it sneaks up on you and BAM all of a sudden it's here.

The chatter seizes when I quietly enter the plane and the twisting sensation in my insides magnifies immensely.

We weren't given the names of the other people in our plane, I'm not sure why.

But immediately I recognize the girls.

To avoid my mother, and every other touchy official, I spent a good chunk of time in my room, reading up on each and every of the Selected girls.

Callisa Montgomery was a Four from Zuni, very cheeky looking from her photo.

Evangeline Hopkins was a Five from Likely, and a circus performer if I remember correctly.

And London Pearson, the model, she's going to be a piece of work.

London doesn't even give me a second glance, her eyes narrow and swiftly her attention turns back to the gossip magazine she is looking through.

I don't see Evangeline walking towards me until she is actually there.

"Hi!" She says brightly, her bronze ringlets are clipped back and they catch the light, "I'm Evangeline." I note that her accent is somewhat British sounding, I wonder how she got it if she is a citizen of Illéa.

"I'm Amaris," I say quietly, looking at the ground.

"I know," She responds with a pearly smile as she reaches for my hand. Without even thinking, I yank my hand away and draw in a sharp breath.

And suddenly it's not Evangeline anymore. It's_ Him. _

_Oh my god._

_Touching me. Touching me everywhere. Get off. _

_Stop. _

_Stop. _

_Stop._

The hallucination fades as quickly as it came and when I snap out of it I realize that Evangeline is holding my shoulders, keeping me upright with a clearly worried look on her face.

"I'm so sorry," I whimper embarrassed as I take a step back, freeing myself from her grasp, "I don't know what came over me."

She throws a nervous glance to Callisa, "Come sit down."

I nearly refuse, but my mind is reeling and it would be stupid to not have a seat.

Still shaking, I collapse onto the cushion between Callisa and Evangeline. I feel an arm around my shoulder and I flinch, but the arm doesn't go away.

"You okay?" Callisa asks. She looks genuinely concerned for me, her brown eyes are wide as if trying to read my scarred face.

I gulp, then hesitantly give a nod. "I don't like being touched, that's all."

Immediately Evangeline's thin arm drops from my shoulders.

"Oh."

This whole time London hasn't even looking up from her magazine, just an idea of where her priorities are.

"Do you want a water?" Callisa asks, reaching for a bottle of ice water on top of one of the small tables in front of the couches.

My head feels fuzzy, and I don't remember saying yes, but before I know it the bottle is empty in my hands.

"Any better?"

"Yes, thanks," I say sheepishly, "Sorry for getting us all off on the wrong foot."

Evangeline laughs, "It's alright. Sorry to ask, but do you have anxiety?"

Something like that.

"Occasionally I have panic attacks, but I haven't been diagnosed with anxiety," I try to sound nonchalant.

"Oh okay," Evangeline is silent for a moment, but doesn't miss a beat finding something new to talk about, "Have you guys ever been on a plane before?"

Callisa rolls her eyes, "I'm a Four, what do you think brainiac?"

She shrugs, "Might as well ask, what about you?" She turns to me.

It takes me a split moment before she is realizing she is addressing me. It's bizarre actually, I honestly have never been talked to and addressed besides anyone but my mother, my brother Adrian, and Him.

"Ah, never. This is my first time." Surprisingly, I can feel myself loosening up a bit, but just a bit. Not some cliche "realization and suddenly she's miss social", but I wasn't as uptight as I was before for sure.

"I'm a little nervous," Evangeline admits.

Now that I think about it, so am I. The plane is so furnished and bright that I forget that we are actually in a plane that could plummet to the Earth.

"Me too," I agree, my voice still soft.

"I'm not. Because we are some of the most VIP people in the country right now, they won't let us crash." Callisa says rationally

"VIP means 'very important person' silly, you don't have to say people again," Evangeline giggles and Callisa looks annoyed when she realizes that she is right.

Out of habit, I go to twist the sapphire engagement ring on my left ring finger, only then do I remember that it's not there.

Because I'm not in an arranged marriage anymore. The ring was beautiful, but I had despised it. Whenever I was without it, my mother would chirp, "Amaris Jean where is your ring?" And then I would have to go find it and wear the damned thing until she wasn't on high alert anymore.

Now she wasn't there to chirp in my ear and make every decision for me.

For the first time my future seemed to be entirely my own.

When I tune back into the conversation, Callisa is talking about how her youngest sister had zipped herself into her suitcase and they didn't realize until she was about the leave the house and they suitcase yelled "ow!"

In spite of myself, I smile, a reflex I thought I had lost long ago.

**SORRY THIS WAS FREAKIN TERRIBLE I NEEDED TO POST SOMETHING ALRIGHT IM SORRY**

**school and sports are total overload and now friend &amp; boy drama it's all just... agh**

**I'm so so sorry I didn't update, and I'm even more sorry that I made you wait and it sucks.**

**NEXT CHAPTER IS MAKEOVERS AND IT WILL BE GREAT I SWEAR **

**Question answer time!**

**HestiaAbnegation11: I'm a cancer, July 2, and it couldn't be more far off honestly. Apparently I cry a lot and like to stay home...**

**UltimateMaxamericaShipper:**

**1) my favorite color is actually silver or white! Surprise surprise, most people don't count them as "colors" so I usually just end up saying blue when someone asks me**

**2) Favorite school subject changes from year to year. Last year it was math, I think this year it is History (pretty much American history) but I am dreadful at Spanish and any computer tech class :P**

**3) I have 2 siblings! A younger brother and sister and when I was younger people used to think my brother and I were twins**

**RosieSmile47:**

**1) I do not have any pets! I would LOVE to have a dog and we have had a few fish. 2 of my goldfish died within 24 hours of having them and the other fish magically lived for like three years**

**2) my favorite time in history... hmmm... I'm such a history nerd and I love documentaries on Egypt and royalty in Europe. Honestly, I can't answer that one. I'm too much of a dweeb. **

**3) Current favorite songs ! Renegade by X Ambassadors, Drag Me Down by One Direction (no judgment please lol), Say Something by Its A Great Big World (I looooove sad songs, don't know why), Locked Away by R City, Poison by Rita Ora, and Ex's and Oh's by Elle King. I don't really have a music taste, it's kinda all over the board.**

**Leave me a review!**

**Love Always**

**Cat xxoo**


	9. Chapter 7: Grand Entrances and Brooklyn

**Guys I'm so so so sorry for not updating. I have a lot on my plate it feels like and everyday I swear that I am going to write another chap and I never do! **

**Not to get ur hopes up but this is at some SUUUUPER eventful or amazingly written chapter...**

**So anyways here are the makeovers... :))**

**ALSO I AM INTRODUCING SOME NEW CHARACTERS!**!

**Lady Kristen Chenaworth**

After the plane ride we saw even MORE well wishers at the airport. The whole thing is completely insane. We were immediately ushered into a limousine. The other girls, except for my plane, were no where in sight. I had tried to strike up conversations with the others on my plane and eventually I gave up when i got lame responses like "oh I don't know" and it seemed that all anyone said was "ohmigod I'm so nervous".

Not to be cocky, but I wasn't nervous. I actually couldn't wait.

The ride from the airport to the palace we weren't allowed to roll down the windows of the car to embrace the admirers that held up signs and screamed our names as we passed. Lady Jane, a Five, quietly looked at her hands. Jessa and Julia both didn't meet my gaze and instead held their glassy eyes on the window. Great.

A few of the signs had my name on them, not as many as Snow Kensington or Blaise or Ashlyn though. Damn.

I crack my knuckles in order to occupy myself somehow, it's a nasty habit and my mother always nags that I am going to get arthritis at 18 if i don't stop. A few times I catch Jane looking at me, perplexed. When I try to give her a half smile she turns away as if she was never looking at me.

I frown to myself as I turn back to the window. Everyone seemed so much more standoffish. I've never had trouble making friends. In all honesty, I am a rather likable person. Parents trust me, I'm a model student for the most part, and I make friends wherever I go. But so far the only adults I have met haven't trusted me with a single thing, not even the ability to follow simple rules like taking vitamins and the other Selected I have met want nothing to do with me. This is going to be a lot harder then I thought.

Miserably, I lean against the window wondering how else I could possibly be more babied.

And with that, almost instantly I catch a glimpse of my name on a sign. Excitedly, I let out a squeal and pop up from my slouch and press my face so close to the glass my breath fogs it. My name was on a sign! How cool is that?! The girl holding it was no more then 7 and I wave my hand ecstatically hoping she can see that it's me through the blacked out windows.

Someone behind me clears their throat and when I peel away from the window I can tell that the representative, Isabel, isn't pleased with my unladylike excitement. One of her overplucked blond eyebrows is arched in disappointment and silently I slouch back into my seat as she glares through me.

"So girls," The palace representative begins with her gray eyes still on me, reading from an oh-so-professional fat white packet, "When we get to the palace you will immediately be escorted inside, your tour of the grounds will be later in the process. Do exactly as you are instructed. I will turn you over to Natasha when we enter, but I will see you here and there as I am working on handling press and organizing interviews!" Her voice goes up at the end, nearly cracking, in an attempt to look somewhat excited for us. Gee thanks.

I'd seen pictures of the palace before from the internet. Actually, in the seventh grade I did a report on the palace. I have always been fascinated by castles, especially really old ones like they have in Swendway and England.

Isabel says nothing else, leaving us all to remain in our own silence. The crowds thin out the closer we get to the palace, less and less signs. The city has faded into a long driveway behind massive gates.

A small tollbooth like thing stops us before we enter the property gates, and unfortunately from the angle I can't stick my head out and see the palace. The window at the end of the car rolls down and a mans head pokes in, takes a look around, and then pops back out. Within seconds the car behind to roll again.

I pick at the fabric of my slacks, the same outfit everyone is wearing. The only thing that separates us is our shoes. All the other girls from my plane are wearing some sort of kitten heels or total high heels. Suddenly I feel out of place in my gold flats, like I'm a child compared to the rest of these future princesses.

The property that the palace is on is almost like a vineyard in looks, tons of beautiful cherry blossom trees and other assorted floral trees and bushes. It's beautiful, but I wonder how much more of this I have to look at before we can actually go inside. Supposedly there are another set of gates before we actually can see the palace itself.

Then the car turns, and I can see it.

In recent years the palace has been reconstructed due to previous rebel attacks. The once stucco exterior walls are now gray stone, which I personally think makes it look more regal. The iron gates that lead inside are more massive and before I know it my face is inches from the window once more. As we pass through the second gates I can't even hear Isabel saying "Lady Kristen!", I'm too in awe. Guards give us curt nods as the limousine pulls around the massive fountain in the center of a circular driveway. The greenest grass I have ever seen in my life lines the yard leading up to the arches wooden doors that are swung wide open and lined with armed guards in their best uniforms.

An anxious adrenaline rush causes my heart rate to pick up. WE ARE SO CLOSE!

I can say truly that at this moment, I want nothing more then to fling open the door and run around on the grass and twirl until I fall over, chest heaving from laughing too hard. It is one of those urges that you know you can't even do but a part of you wants too. Almost how when you are on the top floor of a building looking down and you get a crazy urge to jump.

The limo pulls to stop with a soft jerk and the whole time while Isabel slides to the door she is staring me down.

To avoid her gaze I look down at my hands in my lap, and only then do I realize that they are shaking.

I hear a soft click and then a rush of hot summer air as the door swings open. "Jessa, Jane, please exit first and follow Mr Van Trappen inside," Isabel gives the two girls a nod and they silently leave the car without so much as saying "thank you" or "good bye". Isabel says something to Julia that I can't hear and then Julia is gone with the other two J's. After each girl exits I slide down another few feet until I am right outside of the door.

"Hold on," Isabel says to me before I can exit, her eyes serious and mouth set in a firm line, "Don't you think of doing anything stupid, Miss Kristen. Don't do anything rash."

Wait what? My eyebrows unintentionally squinch together and my smile goes slack.

"Im not sure what you are trying to tell me," I say slowly and as evenly as I can force myself, completely caught of guard.

She lets out a harsh exhale, "What I'm trying to say, Lady Kristen, is that if you play to stay longer than dinner tonight you must control your impulses."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I retort, a bite coming into my tone.

Her eyes narrow at me, "It means that I know you aren't used to being an outsider, or even second best. Please don't do anything impulsive. Girls in this competition aren't going to instantly love you. And just from what I've seen in this car, I can tell it's going to drive you crazy."

Isabel doesn't say anything else, she just swings her skinny legs out of the car and disappears into the sea of cameras.

I can't believe it, but a knot has formed in my throat, the kind of feeling I get right before I cry when your voice is strained and breathing takes a little too much effort.

Is she trying to scare me into behaving? I am in NO way impulsive. Right? Okay maybe I am a little impulsive... What would Isabel know? How would she know that about me? We were in the car for maybe 45 minutes, what did I do to clue her in?

I'm Kristen and I don't get nervous. I am confident. I am ready.

"Lady Kristen! You are holding us up!" Isabel says in an irritated tone as she pokes her head back in the car, "Let's get a move on!"

When her head backs out I can hear her say to a guard, "You'll have to excuse her, I'm afraid she is a bit slow if you know what I mean." I hear a polite laugh back, the kind that you do because you are too uncomfortable to do anything else.

I let out one last irritated groan and swing one foot out of the car, almost hoping that I accidentally kick Isabel. But when I go to jump out, I lift my head up too soon and smack my forehead on the doorway.

My mouth is frozen open in an effort to yell a swear word but I can't make myself utter a single sound.

I can see spots in front of my eyes and everything seems to be tilting sideways. But then I realize not everything is falling, just I am.

My eyes blink slowly open, my head pounding like there are period cramps in my brain. "Shh shh don't move sweets, I'm almost done." Normally I would've sat straight up and in a paranoid state have tried to figure out what was going on. But I surprisingly don't. My face is too numb for my lips to form words.

"Phew. All done, only 5 stitches hun. Can you see me?" A tanned face hovers above me, and whoever they are is wearing a really nice perfume that smells like a sugary autumn candle. "Blink twice if you can see me."

Obediently I blink twice and the tanned woman let's out a sigh. Her hands cup my elbows as she pulls me into a sitting position and hands me a glass of cold water.

"You hit yourself pretty good there," The lady, who I have decided is a nurse, says in a soft tone, "You are going to be a bit late to makeovers, most likely with planes 3&amp;4\. Do you remember what plane you were on?"

"One", I tell her slowly as I take the cup of water and try hard not to drop it, my clouded eyes focusing on her shape.

"Now, what is your name?"

"Kristen Chenaworth."

"Good, good, now Kristen, what is your birthday?"

"July 2nd."

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

The effort causes me to squint until my eyes are barely open.

"Sorry ma'am, it's too blurry", I admit.

"Okay that's what I thought, tilt your head back, I'm going to give you some eye drops to help with that."

While she is giving me the drops she talks to me in attempt to keep me awake. "You have a history of head injuries don't you? Played lacrosse right?"

"I was a goalie," I say with a swallow as the second drop goes in my left eye.

"Right, right, and didn't you play ice hockey as well?" Her tone is clearly distracted.

"Yes, I had to give it up after my last concussion."

"Ahh, I see! And we are done! Kristen could you please blink for me a few times?" I blink and the excess drops leave my eyes in the form of tears.

**Lady Brooklyn**

No one expected a girl to enter the makeover room in a wheelchair. I can say that much. I was sitting on the white leather coach, waiting my turn patiently while flipping through a magazine that was currently devoted to the Selection. This particular article was talking about the Prince and what he was looking for in a wife. The poor boy has everything on display.

I can't bring myself to look at the girl as she is rolled near me into the waiting area. Why didn't any of the magazines mention that there was a paralyzed girl?!

A stout Hispanic woman sets the girl in between the coach across from me and a chair then whispers something to her and leaves.

The girl is pretty, her brown hair that had been brushed straight was now slowly curling into loose tendrils. She had nice eyebrows I noticed, and amber colored eyes. The only thing that was truly out of place was were a series of black stitches near her hairline, barely visible but still there.

She catches me studying her and gives me a smile before I could glance away. Unsure what else to do, I just give her a smile back and pick up the magazine again. I didn't want to be rude, but at the same time she didn't seem very nice. Lady Kristen, as her name tag read, looks incredibly intimidating.

The room that the makeovers are in is loud and smells like hairspray and floral perfume. Constant yells about stations and camera flashes make it too hard to focus on my magazine. Mirrors line the walls, in front of them each is big cushioned salon chair filled with a selected girl and a quirky looking style assistant behind her. Ever chair is taken, and when I came with my plane, plane 3, I was the only one that there wasn't an open seat for. So I was just told to wait here.

"What plane were you on?" Kristen asks when she catches my eyes flitting around the room.

"Three," I say quietly. A puzzled look crosses her face, clearly indicating she can't hear me.

"I was on plane three," I say louder as I pick myself up and plop myself on the couch next to her wheelchair.

Kristen nods, "I was plane one." But if she was on plane one she would be in makeovers right now, wouldn't she?

"Wait, so why aren't you done yet?" I ask, trying to not break the eye contact that she'd been steadily holding with me.

She lets out a short laugh, like a small burst of air, then gestures to her hairline where the stitches are. "Because I nearly gave myself a concussion getting out of the car."

"Is that what the-" But I catch myself before I add "wheelchair is for".

"Yep," Kristen confirms, not even noticing that I broke off the sentence, "they didn't want me to walk around much today. I have a long history with concussions actually. The nurse that you saw said I had to come to the makeovers today because this room is regularly some sort of a conference meeting room."

"Ahh, I gotcha. Did you play sports back home?" She seems fairly athletic, even at her size which I am guessing is around 5'4". It seemed like an easy question to ask.

"Yeah actually I did! I was a lacrosse goalie and I played ice hockey too. But I had to give them up when I started college, and because I couldn't risk another injury." Her face falls, and for a moment I want nothing more then to give her a hug.

"Hey what about you?" Kristen perks up, turning her attention back to me as if she wasn't just upset.

"Oh," I blush, "Well I'm Brooklyn-"

" I know that much!" She interjects, "You have a name tag on!"

"Okay okay!" I say with a giggle on the edge of my voice, "I'm not very interesting honestly."

"That's bull," Kristen objects, pulling her long fingers through her hair, "Everyone has a story." She crosses her arms and leans back in her wheelchair casually, as if she has all the time in the world to talk to me.

"Lady Kristen?" A voice from behind me asks in a high pitch voice, one which sounds oddly anxious.

Kristen and I both turn around at the same time to find a short, ginger make up artist holding a flimsy post it note with Kristen's name undoubtedly scrawled on it. "Your chair is ready for you, if you would please proceed to station 8, I'm sure Raina will be ready in just a mome-"

"Actually," Kristen interjects, "Lady Brooklyn has been waiting longer she can go first."

"Miss," the ginger says, her uneven bangs coming untucked from behind her pierced ears, "I'm afraid that isn't what I've been instructed."

"No really, I have to go back and get an ice pack anyways, truthfully I'm feeling a bit dizzy. But I'm sure Lady Brooklyn would love to go as soon as possible." Kristen flashes me a quick grin when she looks back down at her agenda again. I'm surprised at how quickly the lie rolls off of her tongue, a deadly trait. The red head mumbles something about checking with her supervisor and scurries away, leaving just the two of us again on the couch.

"You didn't have to-" I begin.

"It's no big deal, you have been waiting longer anyways," She shrugs as if she could dish out favors to me all day. I open my mouth to say something else, maybe to say "thank you" or to ask to catch up later, to be honest I'm not sure what I wanted to say. Before I can say anything though, the same high pitch voice is calling me to station 8.

**GUYS IM SO FREAKIN SORRY FOR NO UPDATES! the last chapter got like 3 reviews and idk I kinda fell of the motivation track... BUF NOW IM BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER! **

**Lady Kristen is highly sensitive to head injuries, wonder where that will have an effect on our story MUAHAHA **

**EXPECT ANOTHER MAKEOVER CHAPTER!**

**I started to add another POV and then I decided that if I did I would never upload this!**

**I SWEAR ALL OF MY FUTURE CHAPTERS WILL BE BETTER AND ON TIME!**

**love you**

**13th17 xxoo**

**Ps: pretty please review ;)**


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